Sex, Lies, and Murder
by RingleaderFirecracker
Summary: Every teen rebels. And when the good fall... They fall hard.
1. Cigarettes and Motorcycles

Cigarettes and Motorcycles 

_Robin/Richard Grayson_

The flame burst to life from the red lighter, lighting the end of the cigarette and disappearing into the dark with the snap of a lid. Fingers grasped at the cigarette and it was pulled away from a pair of lips, a stream of smoke slowly unfurling from the pursed lips_. _

A leather jacket slid across broad shoulders and pale, long fingered hands braced against the edge of the windowsill. A single push and the figure flew from the open window. The figure rolled into a flip. One... Two... Three... Four. Four perfect flips and with the silence of a bat and the grace of a gymnast, steel toed boots left imprints in the dew covered grass. One more puff of smoke escaped the figure's lips and Dick Grayson disappeared into the night.

* * *

A black caped man stalked through the night, swinging from rooftop to rooftop and came to a halt as a small beep alerted him to a call.

"He is missing."

The caped man turned, slamming his fist into a nearby wall and leaving a sizable dent in the crumbling brick. His lips thinned to a barely visible line in his anger and his face cleared of all emotion.

"Does he have the motorcycle?"

"Yes sir."

The dark knight turned on his heel and leapt from the building, his cape expanding into black as night wings. In just a few seconds, Batman had disappeared into the night after his son.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when the red headed speedster arrived at the mountain. After snagging a bag of chips, he looked around, noticing the lack of a certain Boy Wonder. The zeta tubes announced the arrival of Batman, and the MIA status of the masked bird became even more clear to the waiting team.

"Where is Rob?" The speedster asked with the grace of a raging elephant.

The dark knight cleared his face of all emotion and his voice was flat when he spoke.

"Your teammate has been confined to his civilian identity due to recent events and will not be returning for some time."

The yellow and red clad teenage immediately was concerned and his speech picked up speed.

"Is he okay? Was he hurt? Can I go see him? Where is he?"

Batman's gloved hands clenched into angry fists and he throws three items on the table between him and the team. With shock on their faces, the team looks down at a pack of cigarettes, a handgun, and the keys to a motorcycle, the red stylized R on the keychain mocking them.


	2. Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 2

Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 2

_Robin/Richard Grayson_

The motorcycle roared to life on the dark secluded road. The figure astride it leaned low and pushed the sleek machine toward the center of the city. He reached a dark bar, the windows hazy with cigarette smoke and grime. The young man lit another cigarette, pushed open the door and sat down at a secluded table. The others at the table smiled and laughed and patted him on the back, motioning for the bartender to get this boy a drink.

A grimy glass of alcohol was set in front of the fourteen year old and he laughed and drank it down, flicking ashes into the dirty ashtray on the table.

"What ya say rich boy, ya wanna test a bet?"

"What's the bet asshole?" Dick Grayson took another drink from his glass.

"Well my boy, Rex here, he insists that ya just look like a weakling. He wants us to fight."

"I don't think that would be a good idea. You might get hurt." Dick Grayson leans over the table with a condescending smile and pats the burly man's cheek.

The man who wants to fight is a burly, barrel-chested man with thin, greasy hair plastered to his head and thick arms. He has no identifiable chin and his jaw is sprinkled with the darkening of a few days past due on a shave.

The burly man was furious and stood up, knocking his chair to the floor and slamming his hands on the table. "We will fight and I'll kick ya ass ya little rich boy!"

Dick Grayson sighed audibly, secretly pleased with the turn of events. He pressed his cigarette into the ashtray, knocked back the rest of his drink and motioned toward the backdoor of the bar.

"Ladies first."

The burly man stormed toward the front door, his meaty fists clenched with anticipation. Dick followed at a leisurely pace, confident and assured. The rest of the gang followed behind them like ducks in a row. This world be the fight of the year.

The gang all circled around their other two members as they each took fighting stances. The burly man planted his feet apart and raised his fists to his chest while Dick bent his knees turning most of his body and keeping his tight foot behind the left. To the casual observer, the winner was already clear.

Dick motioned for the man to make the first move and he charged at Dick, his fists raised to go in for a punch. Without a second thought, his fourteen year old opponent dropped low to the ground and swept his legs out from under him. The man toppled like a fallen tree. He was up again in a second, stepping in to punch the boy in the face. Dick did a back handspring, his legs strategically coming up to kick the man in the face. He stumbled back and Dick decided to end this here and now.

"You can back out now, you know."

"Never!"

Dick sighed and shook his head, almost pitying the poor man. He came at Dick again, this time aiming to grab him around the middle, his knees bent low to charge at him. Dick took this opportunity to plant his foot on the man's bent knee and launch himself into a flip over his head. Steel toed boots touched down without a sound and one hard kick to the back of the knee sent the man to his knees. A roundhouse kick later and the man was on his back, a heavy steel toed boot pressed into his chest.

The burly man looked up at Dick in shock, as did the rest of the gang. Dick pulled out another cigarette, lit it, took a deep inhale, and held out a hand to help the man up from the ground. He grudgingly accepted it and the gang went back into the bar.

* * *

The sun rose over Wayne manor, the sun glistening of the freshly washed windows. On the third story on the far right side, a wrinkled face peered out, anxiously awaiting the return of the youngest member of the house.

Four stories below, a dark haired man angrily typed into a large computer. Glaringly red letters flashed on the screen following every attempt. TRACKING FAILED. Failed... Failed... He failed his son. He failed to protect him. He failed to keep him on the side of justice. He had failed as a father and as Batman. With an angry roar that could only be heard in the Batcave, Bruce Wayne stood up, grabbed the chair he had been sitting on an threw it at the wall. It made no difference and this time he turned, his fist soaring through the glass case that held his son's uniform. The glass shattered, the sounds of it hitting the floor resonating behind ragged breathing. Blood welled up from the cuts left on the man's hand and dripped down his arm, disappearing in the black kevlar. The elevator dinged and a tired man emerged with a tray of tea.

"You have work in a few hours, Master Bruce." The old man didn't say a word about the injury, simply taking the bloodied hand into his and removing the glass.

"Dick is still out there Alfred."

"Alfred nodded and bandaged up the hand. He stood and went to the elevator.

"I will call them to let them know, Master Bruce."

As soon as the old, tired butler was gone, Bruce Wayne did something that Batman would never do. He stopped being the Batman, he mourned as a father, and he put his head down. He had failed his wayward son.

* * *

It was 7:58am when the tracker on Dick's bike turned back on. It was 7:59 when the hidden entrance to the Batcave opened. It was 8:00am when Dick Grayson collapsed to the floor of the Batcave, blood running from a gunshot wound in his shoulder, his breath smelling of alcohol, and a small tattoo on his other shoulder. A gun and a graffitied name littered the skin of his son's right shoulder.

Pained by the image they saw, Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce Wayne gathered up the boy and laid him on the hospital bed. The bullet had left his shoulder and Alfred stitched it up, as Bruce Wayne returned with clothes to change him into. Bruce took his son's clothes, along with the black leather jacket that was thrown across the seat of the bike. The result would haunt the caped crusader for years. When he lifted his son's jacket, a heavy handgun felt from it and hit the stone floor of the Batcave with a resounding and ominous echo.


	3. Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 3

Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 3 

_Robin/Richard Grayson _

_**~ One Week Later ~ **_

**November 13th, 2010**

Knuckles rapped sharply against the wooden door. There was no answer from within and they knocked again. When there was once again no answer, the pale long-fingered hand gripped the doorknob and turned. It was locked. They jiggled the handle and threw their shoulder against the sturdy wood. The door did not give.  
"Dick?"  
There was no answer and the dark haired man threw his shoulder against the door again. The sound of splintering wood echoed in the quiet hallway and he once more threw his shoulder against it. The splintering got louder and the door gave way for the man demanding entry. The room was empty.  
Bloody white bandages were piled in the trashcan by the desk, a roll of new bandages emptied and laying on the floor. The bedsheets were carefully made to military codes and the large window was pushed open, a light breeze blowing the curtains in the room. Dick Grayson was missing.  
Immediately, Bruce Wayne made his way to the Batcave and activated the codes that would enable the trackers hidden on Dick's motorcycle and clothing. TRACKING FAILED. Bruce Wayne slammed his fist into the keyboard, standing up and knocking his chair backward.  
"Alfred, I need the car. I'm going after Dick."  
"Which one, Master Bruce?"  
"The Bugatti."

* * *

Thirteen hours later, a dark figure stood on the roof of Wayne Enterprises overlooking the city. He pressed a button on the com link in his ear, connecting him immediately to Alfred in the Batcave.  
"Anything yet?"  
"No, Master Bruce, the trackers are still disabled."  
Three teenage boys sat together in an alley, each with a cigarette and a bottle of beer in their hands. They were all talking and laughing. A dark shadow fell over the trio and they scrambled to their feet, dropping the beer bottles to the stained concrete. One of the boys was slammed into the concrete wall.  
"Where is Dick Grayson?"  
"I don't know who that is! I've never heard that name before!"  
The Dark Knight slammed his hand against the wall by the boy's head, a thin piece of paper was held to the wall. It was a screenshot from security footage of the fight outside of the bar. The boy pinned to the wall was cheering for Dick after the fight was over.  
"Whoa man, whoa! You mean, Dan. I haven't seen him, I swear! I haven't seen him since that night!"  
The boy's eyes had grown wide with fear and putrid liquid trickled down the leg of his jeans. Batman dropped the boy and he crumpled to the ground, trying to catch his breath from the fear racing through him.  
Without another word, Batman disappeared into the surrounding darkness.

* * *

**November 14th, 2010**

"Authorization: A-01 Agent A"  
The Team looked around in surprise, curiosity etched across their faces as they wondered who Agent A was. An elderly man in a black suit with a domino mask stepped into the room the teens were gathered in. Wally West jumped up, and ran to the unknown man.  
"What are you doing here? You've never been to the cave before? Is Robin alright? Why isn't Batman here? Can I go see Robin? Is there-"  
The butler raised his hand, interrupting the speedster mid-sentence. When he spoke, it was to the entire team and it was calm and steady, but clearly distraught.  
"If you could all meet me in the mission room, I have information from Batman."  
The Team scurried to their feet and entered the mission room. Kaldur was the first of them to speak.  
"Excuse me sir, but may I ask who you are? What is your connection to Batman and Robin?"  
"I have worked closely with both Batman and Robin for many years. I care deeply for them both."  
Kaldur nodded and took a seat at the table in the room. Artemis was still suspicious but also took her seat. Conner stood silently in the corner, his arms folded over his chest and his lips in a straight line. Wally was pacing a super speed, mumbling under his breath and anxiously awaiting the news that Agent A had brought.  
"Robin is missing."  
The room seemed to explode, all the occupants leaping to their feet and yelling in shock.  
"What? Where is he? Is Batman looking for him? What happened? Who took him? Is he okay? Was it as Robin? How long ago?"  
Agent A once again held up a hand to stem the flow of speedster babble. Regaining his barely fractured composure, the elderly butler took a deep breath and spoke to the room.  
"In his civilian identity, Robin has been experiencing a form of teenage rebellion. Yesterday morning, it was discovered that Robin and his motorcycle were missing. He had left voluntarily, but has not returned. Batman and I suspected foul play. If you will excuse me, I must return to assist with the search."  
The Team looked at each other in shock and M'gann burst into tears. Connor gathered her into his arms and Kaldur excused himself from the room. Artemis let her head drop, burying her face in her arms.  
"Authorization: A-01 Agent A"  
"Authorization: Kid Flash B-03"


	4. Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 4

Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 4 

_Robin/Richard Grayson_

**_~One Week Later~ _**

**November 21st 2010**

A soft cloth circled the wood table, pulling back for a split second to allow a orange scented spray to mist across the table before returning. A few minutes later, the same action was repeated along the side table. The house was quiet and dust swam in little moats of light streaking through the windows. The floors were sparkling, the windows gleamed, everything was polished and waxed and dusted to absolute perfection. It was too clean. It was too perfect.

There was no outbreak of laughter or dirty sneakers to scuff the floor. There were no grimy fingerprints on the chandelier and there were no muddy footprints. There were no sweaty towels on the floor or cookie crumbs sprinkled on the carpet. The house was too clean, too quiet, and too empty. There was no more life. The home was abandoned by the whirlwind force that made life worth living. The home was nothing more than a house.

The kitchen was filled with uneaten sweets, the only one remaining to eat them would not. The only one who would, did not remain to do so. It had been a week since Dick Grayson had gone missing. It had been a week since Bruce Wayne stopped sleeping. It had been a week since Alfred Pennyworth stopped speaking. The world was too quiet for mere words to break the silence.

* * *

A yellow blur streaked across the dark landscape of Gotham City. He was search, ever searching. A crumpled picture was clenched in his fist, and his goggles were pulled down over his eyes. The Gothamites gave the yellow speedster dirty looks as he passed, folding their arms and pursing their lips at the unwelcome intrusion into their city.

"I saw your little boyfriend."

The voice echoed through an alleyway and the speedster skidded to a halt, black marks marring the stained concrete of the alley. He turned, racing back to the man.

"You saw him? Where? When?"

"Two weeks ago. After the fight outside of the bar." He motioned to the picture in Kid Flash's hand. "I saw when he was alone, after he got the tattoo, I saw who shot him."

"Who?"

"After he went with the gang to get his tattoo, he split off. He said he was going to go home. We usually walk back together, so I left to go with him. He dropped me off at my house and was going through the alley back to where he left his bike. The guy that he fought, his name is Darrell. He was pissed, man... He confronted Dan in the alleyway and told him that he wouldn't let a scrawny little gay kid best him. He pulled out a gun and tried to shoot the kid. Dan kicked his ass. But he didn't hold back... It was so clear that he held back before. He told Darrell to let it go and he left to go get on his bike. But Darrell got a hold of his gun and he shot Dan. What happened to him, man? Darrell is still pissed. If something happened to him, I'd talk to Darrell."

Kid Flash radioed in to Batman, panicked at the information he heard. It sounded like this Darrell guy was trying to kill Dick. If Darrell got a hold of Dick... They better hurry.

* * *

Dark boots passed unheard through the overly white hallways. Bright white lights glistened off the sparkling white floors and the tiled white walls. Every ten feet was a silver door with a small reinforced window, blocked by bars. Each window showed the same view, a pure white room with a pure white cot and a silver toilet. Some of the rooms had an occupant, each different in appearance, but all with crazed eyes.

The figure dressed in all black did not fit in this all white place. He contrasted painfully against the walls and floors. There were no shadows for him to sink into. He was painfully exposed in his most valuable hour. Each door passed was another number in his head. 748... 749... 750... Eventually he reached his destination, room 756. Looking through the window, he saw the same room as every other, except for the occupant. The man was hunched over with his back to the door, his torso contained within a white straightjacket, his greasy green hair hanging limp around his deathly white face.

Batman unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him silently.

"I knew you'd come to see me Batsy. But you're just wasting your time."

"You know something."

The Joker turned around, dark black bruises surrounding his eyes and blood staining his pale face. He laughed manically, the laugh echoing around the small room. Inwardly, the Dark Knight winced at the sound.

"I may have seen what happened, Batsy. But the game has just begun." His laughter echoed once more and Batman slammed the Joker's head against the metal post of the bed.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. But man, do I wish I did."

The manically laughter echoed through the room again as the door slammed shut and locked. As Batman left Arkham Asylum, his com link beeped in his ear.

"Batman."

"Batman, Batman! I found a man who knows who shot Dick two weeks ago! It was the man he found behind the bar! His name is Darrell. The kid said that if anything happened to Dick, it was probably Darrell that did it!" The over-enthused voice of Kid Flash burst through the com link, the speedster babble almost unintelligible.

"I'm headed there now. Batman out."

Twenty minutes later, Batman found himself on the roof of an apartment building. Across the way, an open window showed the burly man, Darrell, sitting in his living room drinking a beer. The Dark Knight made his way in through the man's darkened bedroom, cut the power to the apartment and grabbing the man by the front of the shirt.

"Where is Dan?"

"Dan?" The man's voice was shaky when he spoke. "Haven't seen 'im in a week..."

"What did you do to him?"

"Didn't do anything, man, I swear! I saw 'im last week, but 'e was fine, I swear! I was back here by eleven."

The fear in the man's eye's spoke volumes. The man wasn't lying.

"Where did you last see him?"

"'E was in an alley... Down on 6th street. Between th' red 'partment building and the one that burned. I swear, ya can ask th' man downstairs. He saw me come in tha' night."

Batman disappeared out the open window and the power flicked back on. A call to Kid Flash, and they met at the alleyway Darrell spoke of.

"Do you really think this guy didn't do anything to Dick?"

"I think he did something... But I don't think it's why he is missing."

Kid Flash nodded and looked down the alley, scared of what they might find. He turned to look at Batman and the man nodded once, stepping forward into the alley.

The alley was empty except for an overturned trashcan. There were some items on the ground near the trashcan and Batman went to investigate. His heart stopped in horror. Laying on the ground near the trashcan was a few speckles of dried blood, a broken com link, and a torn leather jacket.


	5. Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 5

Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 5 

_Robin/Richard Grayson _

__**December 21st, 2010**

It was December 21st, 2010 and Alfred Pennyworth knew that all hope was lost. As the elderly butler cleaned the glass case that held Robin's uniform, he tried to maintain his composure. The kind eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked at the uniform that belonged to the boy that was like a grandson to him. The same boy that left streaks down the banister and fingerprints on the chandelier. The same boy that Alfred Pennyworth knew deep in his heart would never come home.

As he looked up, past the glass he was cleaning to the uniform within, he could stand it no more. The cloth and bottle dropped to the floor and the dignified butler slid into a nearby chair, his head in his hands and his tears spilling down his cheeks to fall to his lap. Even if Batman would never give up, the facts were simple. Alfred knew, deep in his heart, that the young master was dead.

* * *

The television was off and the scent of burnt cookies filled the entire cave. A female yell was heard and smoke billowed out of the oven and set off the smoke alarm. None of the Team moved from the couch as M'gann shut off the alarm and brought yet another tray of burnt cookies on the coffee table. They joined the four other trays of various cookies, a tray of cupcakes, and a plate of snacks. Not even the speedster had taken a single bite.

Kid Flash's best friend was gone. It was clear by this point. Whoever had taken Dick hadn't made any attempt to contact for a ransom and after five weeks of him being gone... Kid Flash knew enough about Gotham City to know that if they didn't ask for ransom, and he had been gone for this long, the chances of Dick being alive were unlikely. Megan's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.

"Wally... You should eat something... You're going to make yourself sick..."

"I can't eat Megs... Rob is still out there. I know he's probably..." His voice cracked and he dropped his head, hiding his face in his hands. "I don't know what to do..."

A choking noise came from his right and Wally turned in time to see Artemis leave the room. He looked at Megan to see tears pouring down her face and Connor stood up to take her into his arms, pain clear in his eyes as well.

"I know you're hurting, Wally. It hurts that Rob isn't here... But I don't want you getting sick or hurt." Megan let out a sob and buried her face against Connor's chest.

A single drop of liquid escaped to slip down Connor's cheek and he hid his face in Megan's hair. Wally struggled to breathe as his chest tightened and his throat closed. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he couldn't bear it anymore. Kid Flash ran. He ran until he couldn't see through his tears and he fell to his knees in an empty field. His entire world was crashing down in millions of little pieces.

* * *

The night air was brisk, the icy breath coming from the dark figure visible even in the darkness. Despite the cold, he could not give up. He would not give up. A hush had fallen over the city and a light dusting of snow revealed the footprints of the dark knight. He had to be careful. No stone had been unturned, no connection left unquestioned. There was nothing. There were no leads and no suspicions. Every man questioned was clean, every threat eradicated. But Dick was still missing.

Batman respected his son for his secrecy. Even in his rebellion, not one person knew his true name. His son had created an alias of a boy named Daniel who had grown up on the streets after being thrown out of his home. He had to be out there somewhere, and Batman wouldn't give up until he found his son and brought him home. Even if...

Batman stopped his train of thought. He could not and would not. A light glanced off the clouds and flickered a little. The Batsignal. This better be important. Batman leapt from the building, deployed his grappling hook and swung into the night.

"What do you want, Gordon?"

Gordon barely even reacted, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. He let out a heavy sigh, icy breath streaming from his mouth. The man had heavy bags under his eyes, almost as dark as those of Bruce Wayne.

"We found something. And you aren't going to be happy."

"What did you find?"

"Just... Just go to the docks... I can't..."

Batman took off for the docks, knowing that whatever he found there may kill him. As he approached the docks, flashing police lights came into view. As he crouched on the nearest warehouse. The area was sectioned off with crime scene tape and was flooded with bright lights. Two police cars were parked there and a blue tarp covered something on the concrete near the water. Police officers were gathered near the object on the ground, the stress on their faces clear even from this distance. Batman dropped to the ground below and the nearest police officers jumped in surprise.

"What did you find?"

The police officers all looked at each other, each reluctant to be the messenger of this bad news. Batman's eyes narrowed and one young man was shoved forward. He whipped the tarp off the item and stepped away, scared of the repercussions he would face for unveiling it.

Beneath the blue tarp was a rusted motorcycle. The black and red paint was chipped and the metal was rusted. The leather seat had been ripped to show the yellowing material inside and the tires were slashed. A stylized yellow R was chipped and rusted on the side of the motorcycle. In less than twenty seconds, Batman's entire world came crashing around him.


	6. Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 6

Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 6

_Robin/Richard Grayson _

**_June 21st 2011_**

The house was no longer empty. Muddy footprints were tracked through the entryway and streaks marred the formerly polished banister. Youthful chatter filled the house, and cookie crumbs were sprinkled across the carpet. The silence was no longer deafening, and the sweets were finally being eaten again.

Alfred Pennyworth sat in the Batcave, a sewing machine whirring on the table in front of him, the needle darting in and out to stitch together the crimson fabric over the black kevlar. The repetitive sounds of fists hitting a punching bag came from the other side of the cave, the sounds comforting to the elderly butler. Batman needed his Robin, and his Robin was back. The Batmobile was gone and Robin was home for the night. Tomorrow he would going to Happy Harbor to spend the day with the team. Tensions had been high between him and Kid Flash and Alfred would have to talk to him before he left.

The computer beeped, signaling a call from Batman. Alfred pressed a few buttons and Batman's face came on the screen. His face was blank and his voice was dead.

"It's over. It's over, Alfred."

The screen went blank and Alfred couldn't think anymore. It was all over. Batman's face said that more than his words ever could. The sounds of Jason Todd in the training room weren't nearly as comforting anymore.

* * *

Bruce Wayne sat at his desk on the top floor of Wayne Enterprises. The floor to ceiling windows looked out across the entire city. It was summertime and the city was alight with activity. It had come out that Dick Grayson had gone missing, and nobody even noticed that the Robin that was saving their lives was not the same Robin they knew. The city was oblivious to his pain. They had let it gone. But Bruce never could. It was clear now that his son was dead, but he would not stop until he was home.

His cell phone rang and his eyes got watery. His son had set his ringtone to the Imperial March as a prank before he had gone missing. He didn't have the heart to change it. He carefully calmed himself and answered his cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Excuse me, is Mr. Wayne there?"

"This is he."

A throat cleared on the other side of the line and cracked when it spoke again.

"Mr. Wayne... We found him...We need you to come down to the river near 16th and Redding."

Bruce Wayne ended the call and took ten deep, steady breaths to calm himself and grabbed his car keys and walked out of his office. He drove down to the river and had a horrifyingly familiar sense of deja vu. Police lights flashed and he could hear sirens in the distance. He saw the glaring yellow police tape closing off the area and a black body bag lay on the ground near the edge of the river.

Bruce pulled over and got out of the car, running over and not having to pretend to be heartbroken. For once, he let himself cry. For once, he let himself mourn. Seeing the black body bag was too much for the heartbroken father. He ran for the river's edge but two police officer's stepped in front of him.

"Please... Mr. Wayne, you shouldn't have to see this."

"Are you certain that it is him?"

"We will need to look at dental records to be absolutely positive, but he was found with the clothes you described to us. We also... We also found this." One of the police officer's held out his hands, a gold utility belt unfold and laid out across them. "Is there something we should know, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce grabbed the utility belt and turned around.

"There's nothing to say."

He walked away, getting back in his car and heading toward where he had hidden the Batmobile. He changed into his Batman uniform and called the Batcave. Alfred's face came on the screen. Batman could hear Jason training in the background.

"It's over. It's over, Alfred."

He shut off the monitor and turned on the Batmobile. Villains of Gotham beware.


	7. Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 7

**AN. I'm sorry for the delay. I never realized how difficult newspaper articles would be to write. I'm aware that this is far from my best chapter, but it is simply to catch up befor the conclusion next chapter. Yep, that's right, this story is almost over! One more chapter!**

Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 7 

_Robin/Richard Grayson _

**June 22nd, 2011**

THE LAST OF THE FLYING GRAYSON'S FALLS

The body of Richard Grayson, the ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, was found in Gotham River last night. After six months of being considered a missing person, Richard "Dick" Grayson has been found dead. The city mourns for this young heir to Wayne Enterprises and remembers the boy's tragic past.  
Richard Grayson was born into a family of world renown trapeze artists called The Flying Grayson's. This family was well known for their one of a kind quadruple flip, but quickly, they became known for a far darker event. Richard Grayson was taken in by the billionaire Bruce Wayne after his family was tragically killed.  
Six months ago, the 14 year old boy went missing overnight. Hope was lost last night when the body of the boy was found in the Gotham River. Bruce Wayne has not been seen since the discovery and sources have reported that a private funeral will be held in ten days time.

* * *

**June 29th, 2011**

WAYNE HEIR'S DEATH A MURDER!

Just one week ago, the heir to Wayne Enterprises, Richard Grayson was found dead. After analyzing the remains, it has been revealed that this fourteen year old boy was tragically murdered.  
The cause of death is reportedly strangulation, but no further evidence has been released as of the current date. Bruce Wayne and his representatives have declined to comment on this recent development. The representatives of Wayne Enterprises have released that a private funeral will be held for the boy, while a public memorial will be held on July 7th in Gotham Park.

* * *

**June 21st, 2012**

GRAYSON MURDER HAS GONE COLD

This week, it has been announced that the Grayson Murder has officially gone cold. All leads as to who could have murdered the 14-year-old boy have led to nothing but dead ends for the Gotham City Police Department.  
In regards to this, Commissioner James Gordon released the following statement:  
"The GCPD has exhausted all efforts in the search for the murderer of this unfortunate boy. Despite reluctance on all of our parts, this case must be labelled as a cold case. Our hopes are that in the future, whoever committed this heinous crime is caught."  
Many citizens in Gotham City have questioned the involvement of Batman in this case. The legendary Dark Knight has been deeply involved in this case until quite recently when even his efforts were exhausted.  
Despite the lack of justice in this case, we of Gotham City hope that Richard Grayson is able to rest in peace.


	8. Cigarettes and Motorcycles Final Chapter

**AN. This is the final chapter of this story. I'm a little sad to see it end. I have a little outtake if anyone is interested, that I couldn't fit in the story, but I have the information for it. I hope you all enjoyed this story, and I have plenty more Sex, Lies, and Murder stories prepared if anyone is interested in them. So thank you for reading! **

****Cigarettes and Motorcycles Part 8 

_Robin/Richard Grayson _

**December 25th, 2012**

It was 5am on Christmas day and for the first time in a long time, four people were in the family room of Wayne Manor, soft powdery snow falling delicately on the frosty grounds. The sky was mostly dark, but the two children in the family room paid the early morning no mind.  
The two elder men in the room were nursing coffee and tea respectfully. One was casually reclined on the couch with his ankle crossed over the opposite knee. The eldest, the butler, was standing by a large pine tree donned with twinkling lights and bulbs. The two boys, one 13 and the other 11 were sitting on the floor in pajamas and slippers with piles of Christmas paper scattered around them.  
The elder son had just unwrapped and was obsessing over the keys to a brand new motorcycle, while the younger was profusely thanking his guardian for the most recent technology from WayneTech.  
"Thank you thank you thank you! Thank you so much, Bruce!" Tim jumped up, running to hug Bruce Wayne a huge smile on his face.  
"Yeah, thanks Bruce." Jason made eye contact with his guardian, and a small smile appeared on Bruce's face. His son's were happy. That was what mattered in the long run.  
Jason and Tim ran down to the Batcave to see the new motorcycle and try out the new technology and Bruce stood to help Alfred Pennyworth clear the family room. After all the paper was thrown away, and all the gifts were taken to the boy's rooms, there was a single gift sitting under the tree.  
With a blank face, Bruce picked up the still wrapped Christmas gift and walked up the stairs. Alfred followed with a morose expression. They reached the end of the hall on the third story and stopped at a tightly shut door. The both of them entered and Bruce set the gift next to four similar gifts. The room was kept immaculately cleaned and the cleanliness was the only outward sign that the room was not and never would be occupied.  
With a sigh and watery eyes, Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce Wayne walked out and shut the door to the room that belonged to the late Dick Grayson.

* * *

~_Flashback_~

**November 13th, 2010**

Dick could see his breath in the air as he snuck off the grounds of Wayne Manor. He donned his persona of Dan like one would don a leather jacket. It was his mask, his escape, his freedom. The frosty grass crunched beneath his boots and soon he reached the street. His motorcycle was stashed nearby where he had snuck it out while Bruce was at work. He hopped on his motorcycle and rode into the city. Parking his bike in it's typically hiding place on sixth street near the burned building, he slowly walked to his friend Jake's house.  
"Hey Dan! Long time no see! Where ya been, man?"  
"Jake, I got shot. It takes a little longer than a few days to heal from that. Plus, the old man was really p'oed at me, and had me on lockdown."  
"Dang... That sucks dude."  
The pair made their way toward a rundown apartment building that was their meet-up spot when they wanted a quiet night. When they got there, most of the guy's were already there. The only one missing was Darrell, but that was to be expected. Dan knew he shouldn't have embarrassed him. His sister had cancer and their family was poor. The only thing the teenager had left was his pride. He was actually surprised Darrell hadn't killed him.  
For four hours, the boys sat and played poker in apartment 3B. The room was filled with cigarette smoke and the smell of alcohol. The boys all laughed and shared stories about the low level crime in the city. It all ended at 2:30am, when Dick knew he had to get home or Bruce would consider him MIA. Batman was probably already out on the streets looking with the way his privacy was being invaded lately.  
Dick and Jake left to walk back and Jake smiled at Dick as he walked away.  
"Hey Dan, don't stay away so long next time. We need you to keep the obnoxious asses in check!"  
Dick laughed and strolled down to where he had left his motorcycle. Glancing around for criminals, Dick slid into the alley that hid his bike. In just a few minutes, he felt the cold barrel of a gun press into the small of his back. His eyes widened in surprise that someone had snuck up on him, his hands compliantly drifting up into the air to show his attacker that he is unarmed.  
"I'm really sorry Dan."  
Dick started at the voice. Darrell. It figured that the man would return to complete the job he had left unfinished the week before. He had to survive, he had to get back home. Bruce deserved an apology.  
"I'm really sorry, man. I need the money. My sister... She's dying. I... I can't let that happen. Please... I'm so sorry."  
Tears choked the teenagers voice and his hand shook, causing him to press it harder into the boy's back. He shrugged a little, bringing his left arm up to sloppily wipe the tears from his face. Dick took advantage of this weakness and he spun, kicking the gun out of his hands and punching Darrell in the face.  
"I understand, really, I do. But you have to understand that I will not die."  
Darrell's eyes narrowed and he ran at Dick, his fists up to punch him. Dick grabbed his wrist as he went in for a punch and put him off balance, moving in to do a roundhouse kick. Darrell fell to the ground and scrambled, his fingers closing around the trigger of the gun and a loud bang echoed through the empty alleyway. Dick collapsed to the ground, his fingers numbly applying pressure to the bullet wound at his hip.  
Dick's vision blurred as a dark figure appeared behind Darrell, knocking him out with a blow to the head. A harsh and strained laugh echoed through the alley and the figure stepped forward, waving the object in his hand which Dick could now see was a gun. Moonlight fell across his face, revealing the scarred features of his friend Jake. For a second, Dick let himself feel relief.  
"You know, I almost feel bad for betraying Darrell... But well, this is personal."  
Jake winked at Dick and pointed the gun at his head. Dick sucked in a sharp breath and his head swam, the world spinning and tilting.  
"You're losing a lot of blood there Dan, I better hurry this up. I want the pleasure of killing you myself. Although, I assume you do deserve an explanation before you die, huh DICK?" Dick gasped as Jake crouched over him, the handgun still pointed in his face.  
"Do you know what happens when you father gets fired from Wayne Enterprises? HUH?!" Jake leaned in close, his lips up to Dick's ear as he whispered. "You're mother gets murdered in front of your eyes... And you're father, the man you loved and admired... He becomes a monster."  
For the first time, Dick saw the pain and anger in Jake's eyes. For the first time, Dick paid attention to the deep scars on his friend's face. For the first time, Dick knew that he would never again see Bruce. He closed his eyes, sending a silent prayer that Bruce would know he was sorry. His eyes flew open as the gun clattered to the concrete and icy fingers clenched around his neck.  
"You betrayed me 'Dan', and your stupid father ruined my life. Now I'm going to ruin his by taking away his precious heir. Goodbye, Dick."  
Dick's vision went blurry and his lungs began to burn as his friend choked him. The dark walls of the alley blurred and the eyes of Jake stayed clear as day. I'm sorry, Jake, he thought. I'm sorry, Wally. I'm sorry, Alfred... I'm sorry Bruce. With his final breath, he choked out his last words, "I...I'm s...s..sorry..."  
The icy hands fell away from his throat, and his blue eyes went cloudy. Never again... Never again.


End file.
